


the trials and tribulations of kissing in the dark

by lostnfound14



Series: not your friend, not your enemy [3]
Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Soft Ruby, but only for a second, but the rest is cute i promise, soft otis, trigger warning: groping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnfound14/pseuds/lostnfound14
Summary: She almost wants to bang her head against the suddenly inviting stone flooring. Why is he here? Of anyone, it had to be him.-Or, Ruby and Otis escape a party and it all goes downhill (uphill) from there.I strongly suggest reading parts 1 and 2 before you read this one.
Relationships: Otis Milburn/Ruby (Sex Education)
Series: not your friend, not your enemy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610161
Comments: 40
Kudos: 188





	the trials and tribulations of kissing in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> i know i know. it took fucking ages. but everything just kind of piled on top of itself and i had to push this wayyy back. i also struggled significantly throughout this fic. ending it was near impossible. all that aside, here it is, part three. lots of stuff happens in this one, so keep those goddamn seatbelts buckled, all right. without further ado...

Things go somewhat back to the way they were; Ruby doesn’t shy away from Otis anymore. Instead, she’s become able to adopt a façade of casual indifference towards him, as long as they’re only interacting in passing. An unwelcome change is that whenever they speak for longer than a few seconds, Ruby feels her pulse start to quicken and all of a sudden she can’t look him straight in the eye. 

She tells herself that it’s the pressure of the school environment. Always under the scrutinizing eye of, well, everyone. They’re willing to make up narratives in their mind and become so convinced by them that they spread them like the truth, and all of a sudden everyone’s got this idea of you in their head that could easily be disproven by a quick conversation. The only problem with that is, that conversation never happens because the rigid rules of Moordale’s social structure are so engrained into everyone’s minds that they simply avoid those who don’t belong to their little niche. It’s pathetic, really. And yet Ruby is a product, a proponent of it.

How many excuses will Ruby make for herself? She has no idea, but for the time being those excuses are successfully distracting her from her feelings. As long as they don’t have to interact with each other outside of school, Ruby is going to get along just fine.

So it’s just her luck that at a party hosted by some rando – who invited her specifically, his eyes glued to her tits as he said, “Party at mine on Friday” – she sees Otis again. Seriously, what’s up with that? Since when does he get invited to parties? 

Who knows. Maybe that rando invited someone from Swing Band who invited Eric who invited Otis. It doesn’t really matter how he ended up here; the bigger issue is that he’s _here._ Across the room, wearing a plaid short-sleeve, looking perfectly dorky. His hair looks a bit fuller than usual – maybe he put some product in it. (Why does she notice these things?)

Ruby tosses back the shot of whatever-it-is that someone handed to her and slams the empty glass down on a nearby table. She’s not going to get distracted by that mug. She came here to have a _good_ time, dammit. So she makes her way into the throng of drunk sixth-formers, not really caring who she ends up grinding against, as long as she’s not looking in Otis’s direction. 

She feels a pair of hands land on her waist and she leans into them, feeling a body press against hers and hot breath on her neck. Okay, this isn’t too bad. His hands are, for the most part, staying in the same spot, squeezing a little bit. She can work with that. She leans a bit further into him and feels him twitch. She smirks to herself. The shot she just took is starting to work its magic, loosening up her movements and bringing her into a state of gentle euphoria.

Then his hand shifts and goes to Ruby’s crotch. She quickly slaps it away and practically jumps off him, her ears burning in anger and embarrassment as she stalks her way out of the living room, aching for some semblance of space and the ability to breathe. She feels disgusted. She’s been ogled and catcalled before, sure, but never _touched_ in a way she didn’t want to be.

She finds a door to the outside and almost falls through it, gasping for air and immediately feeling better when it fills her lungs, a bit chilly, yet therapeutic. Ruby sits down on a nearby lawn chair, leaning forward and rubbing at her temples, gathering her wits about her. Shit. Shit. Fuck. 

Who the hell teaches boys that doing things like that is okay? Are they even taught? Do they all just put their hands on girls like property? She still feels his phantom hand between her legs, a slimy sensation creeping from there, up her back...

Ruby’s breaths become shaky and her hands fall to her knees, intermittently squeezing and relaxing her grip. Shit. It must look like she’s panicking from an outside perspective. Ruby doesn’t panic. Every time she feels like she might fall off the deep end she finds something else that keeps her teetering on the edge, barely stable. But there’s nothing here, just the sound of crickets and the muffled music from inside the house.

Ruby hears the door she just exited through burst open, but she doesn’t look up to see who’s joined her. She just hopes it isn’t someone she knows, she doesn’t want them to see her like this.

“Ruby, are you all right?” 

She almost wants to bang her head against the suddenly inviting stone flooring. Why is _he_ here? Of anyone, it had to be him.

Ruby feels his hand on her shoulder. She’s quick to shove it away, whispering, “Don’t _touch_ me–”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. Okay.” His voice moves to in front of her, and Ruby forces herself to look up. Stupid plaid shirt. Warm, intimate eyes. Yup, it’s Otis all right. He’s holding a two-liter of Coca-Cola in one hand. 

Without invitation, he settles in the lawn chair opposite her, remaining silent so that Ruby can focus on her breathing. It’s beginning to slow, just the tiniest bit. Otis takes a sip straight from the massive bottle. Her eyes widen in surprise. He notices her expression and holds the bottle out in front of him. “You want some?” he asks.

She stares.

“I lifted it from the kitchen,” he explains. “I’m staying sober for the foreseeable future. Don’t be shy.”

Ruby scoffs. “Not if you have mono. Or herpes,” she adds as an afterthought.

Otis’s eyes twinkle as he smiles. “I have neither of those,” he assures. “Take it.” 

Tentatively, Ruby reaches out for the bottle and takes it from him, lifting it immediately to her lips and taking a long gulp. It grounds her slightly (just as Otis’s presence has, but that’s unimportant). She sighs when she removes the bottle from her mouth like they do in those corny commercials. 

It’s a few seconds before Otis speaks again. “Are you okay sharing what made you bolt like that?” The question almost makes Ruby drop the bottle, so she sets it squarely on the ground and her eyes fall again to the ground.

“A boy I was dancing with…” she starts. That’s all she’s able to say before her breathing picks up again. Otis simply watches her, and she’s grateful that he doesn’t try to touch her again. In the silence, Ruby tries to school her features, regain some of the aloof confidence that has kept her afloat all this time. “I’m okay. He didn’t, like, hurt me or anything.”

Otis looks almost disappointed. “Ruby, you know it’s okay to not be okay?” 

“Of course I _know_ that,” she snaps. “Stop therapizing me.” He stares, but leans back in the lawn chair, relenting. She sighs tiredly. “He… touched me. Out of nowhere. I had to get out.”

Ruby watches Otis’s eyes widen. “Oh,” he breathes. She simply sits in the wake of her admission, practically able to hear him think from his lawn chair. She reaches desperately for the bottle of Coke, taking another sizable sip from it. 

Neither of them says anything for a few moments. Ruby prefers it this way, honestly. It makes the confusing melting pot of emotions she’s feeling calm somewhat. Especially since Otis isn’t speaking, her thoughts are no longer going a mile a minute.

“You’re not going back in there, are you,” he suddenly muses, breaking the silence.

Ruby simply glares at him: _You daft boy._

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Do you want to… go somewhere?”

“What?” Ruby asks incredulously. “You realize how absolutely suspicious that sounds, right?” 

“No!” Otis whisper-shouts. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… thought that maybe you wanted to get away. From here.”

When Ruby looks beyond the truly odd phrasing of his offer, she considers what it might mean. Yeah, she’ll be far away from that creep who touched her. But she’ll also be with Otis, the boy who’s made her anxious in _different_ ways, and she momentarily thinks that she’d rather risk encountering Mr. Grabby Hands in the house party again than risk acting a fool in front of Otis.

That’s an awful thought. Ruby shakes her head to rid herself of it. “Sure,” she suddenly says. 

Otis almost looks surprised. “Are you sure?” 

Ruby smirks. “I literally just said ‘sure,’ you donut. Let’s go.”

He laughs, sounding relieved. “Okay. I, um, I came here on my bike.” 

Ruby stands up, lifting the Coke bottle with her. “I’m a bit tipsy,” she confesses. “Can’t promise I won’t fall off.” She takes a sip from the bottle, then sets it down on the glass table around which the lawn chairs were placed. 

“Then you’ll just have to hold on extra tight,” he says.

They make their way around to the front of the house, and there’s Otis’s bike, locked to a section of the picket fence that lines the yard. Ruby thinks she’s becoming well acquainted with that bike by now. They’ve been through a lot together.

Otis unlocks the bike, rolling it out onto the road, and wordlessly they hop on, in that familiar position: Ruby standing on the axle and leaning into Otis’s back. “You ready?” He asks, and she feels his voice rumble in his chest as he speaks.

“Yeah,” she replies, tapping him on his shoulder with her hand that rests on top of it, trying to say, _On with it, noble steed._ Otis gets the message and pushes off.

She doesn’t know where they’re going, but she has enough faith in him that he’s not going to take her to some shady corner of the woods and kill her. A distant memory comes to mind as they start to coast along, of Otis giving a speech to that boy who almost jumped off of the moon at the dance in true rom-com fashion, inadvertently saving his life. No, he couldn’t hurt a fucking fly.

Surrounded by the night, Ruby feels like she and Otis are the last people on Earth, their only companions being the wind screaming in their ears and the trees that stand rigidly and watch them pass. Ruby nestles deeper into Otis’s back, squeezing her arms just a smidge tighter around his neck, and she swears she hears him gasp quietly. 

Eventually, they roll into town. “How’s the arcade sound?” Otis asks, turning his head only slightly as he speaks.

“Good,” Ruby says quietly. Otis turns back ahead and eventually, they end up in the arcade’s parking lot. _GAMESPOT - OPEN 24/7,_ the neon sign in front boasts. She’s never been to this arcade. Always thought it was nerdy. But tonight she doesn’t want to be alone, Otis has been especially kind, as usual, and maybe it won’t be the worst thing in the world.

They dismount, Ruby’s hands once again lingering on Otis’s back for a moment too long, but he pays it no mind. She follows him somewhat loosely to the door of the arcade, her arms curling around her chest due to the chilly breeze that marks this lonely night.

Otis holds the door open for Ruby, throwing a close-lipped smile her way as she walks inside. The arcade is lit in a dull purple, one that would make her feel sleepy if it weren’t for the flashing lights of the games that command her attention.

“How do we pay for the games?” Ruby asks, because this idea Otis has had is suddenly looking quite appealing. In the low light, she can see him smile faintly.

“I’ve got it,” he says like it was predetermined. Ruby scoffs.

“No way. I’m not a complete fucking damsel, I can pay for my own credits,” she says, not trying to hide the bite to her words. 

“Okay, okay,” Otis concedes, raising his hands in surrender. “The lady will pay for her own credits.” 

Ruby rolls her eyes, but smiles, turning slightly to hide it from him. “Let’s go, then,” she says, walking up to the counter. The boy working there looks like his eyes are slightly glazed over, but he snaps out of his daze the second Ruby raps her fingernails on the counter. Then he gets a funny look in his eye, one that Ruby has become all too familiar with ever since she started getting attention from boys and men alike. She resists the urge to make some snide remark.

“How may I help you?” Creepy Boy asks. 

“Just give me and my boyfriend some credits,” she says without thinking. Her eyes widen for a moment but then she decides to just roll with it. Creepy Boy’s creepy face deflates as a side effect. At least some good came of her decision.

“Uh, well, you need to pick a certain amount–” 

“Whatever’s enough to keep us busy for a while. I couldn’t give a fuck what number,” Ruby grits out. She just wants to get away from this stupid boy and his stupid eyes that run over her stupid body like she’s a stupid statue in a stupid fucking museum. 

He takes a moment, but about thirty seconds later he hands her a card that he meekly explains she can swipe at any of the games and play. Ruby turns on her heel, almost knocking straight into Otis, who was waiting for her the whole time. He must have heard her call him her boyfriend. Shit.

“You know,” Otis calls, his voice following her as she walks down the aisles of games, “you were quite short with that cashier.” 

“Don’t care,” Ruby calls over her shoulder, eventually stopping at one of the claw-grabby-thing games. Whatever the fuck they’re called. “He was being creepy.”

When Otis catches up, he simply observes her, clearly taking note of her icy demeanor. She looks into the glass box, full of silly little stuffed animals, none of which call her name. 

“You know what, I think I’ve got the perfect game for you,” he says, tapping her on the shoulder and forcing Ruby to turn and watch him walk towards a row of machines against a wall. She follows with a heavy sigh. 

He’s waiting for her by… one of those punching-bag games. Ruby’s face contorts into a wicked grin. Otis is nothing but good ideas tonight. “How do I start?” She asks giddily, already squeezing her hand into a fist. 

Otis chuckles softly. “Just swipe the card and punch it as hard as you _fucking_ can.” The swear sounds almost poisonous on his tongue to Ruby, but she loves it.

She swipes the card and the screen behind the punching bag tells her to _GO._

Ruby pulls back her fist and thinks, _This is for groping me, you asshole,_ before following through and throwing her fist at the bag with as much force as she can manage. When she connects, it is one of the sweetest sensations she’s ever experienced: the strength behind her punch and the catharsis of _finally_ being able to do something about all of her suppressed emotions that have been building up all night. 

Otis whistles behind her. “That felt good, huh?” 

Ruby can do nothing but nod. Her hand is buzzing, so she shakes it out a little bit, and turns to look at Otis. He’s smiling warmly, leaning against an adjacent machine with his arms crossed over his chest as he looks back at her.

“Wanna go again?” He asks. Ruby doesn’t need his permission, but it’s actually a good idea, so she quickly turns back to the machine and swipes the card. The screen tells her to go at it once more. So she does, and the number still doesn’t matter, it’s the expulsion of her tormented thoughts and feelings that do. 

She swings and connects and she isn’t as angry anymore, so she turns away from the machine, simply saying, “Let’s do something else,” and continues on without waiting for Otis. She does hear him splutter a little bit behind her, though, and it makes her grin faintly. 

Ruby surveys her surroundings. There’s a spinning wheel that gives you tickets if you’re lucky, one of those gritty shooting games, and… 

Air hockey. Perfect. She kind of wants to whup Otis’s ass at something. Not by any fault of his own, of course, but she kind of needs some source of validation and this is the closest. So she jogs up to the table and leans against it, turning to watch Otis approach.

He settles at the other side, following her example and leaning forward against the table, shooting her a challenging look. “Ready to get beat?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. What a dork, trying to look all alpha over a game of air hockey. She’s going to destroy him. 

(An afterthought: He looks cute when he uses his eyebrows like that.)

She swipes her card to start the game and God, they’re both awful. Whiff after whiff. If either of them scores a goal it’s because they both lack any sort of hand-eye coordination. But Ruby gets the best of Otis at the end, beating him by two goals, and when the last one goes in, she throws her hands up in joy. To mock him a little bit, she jabs a finger in his direction and says, “Suck on that, bitch.”

“You got lucky,” Otis defends weakly, his gaze transferring from side to side, never directly meeting her eye. “I wasn’t warmed up yet.” Momentarily, she wonders if he might even have let her win… Nah. He was just straight-up bad.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. Loser.” Ruby rebuts, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a hip.

Finally, he looks at her straight on, his gaze unexpectedly intense, and shrugs. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

Her throat is suddenly dry. “I’m thirsty,” she says. “Let’s get some sodas, or… something.” Everything that’s happened tonight in Otis’s company has thrown Ruby completely out of her equilibrium and reminded her of the things she had tried so hard to forget while she was still in her self-induced ignorance of him. And, fucking hell, he looks at her like he’s memorizing every little detail of her face. 

He nods and leads her to the bar, which is also part of the counter and is also manned by the same eczema-ridden eye-fucker that gave her the game card. This time, though, Otis goes up to him and asks for two Cokes.

While Otis is ordering, the creeper’s gaze shifts to her, and she throws him a middle finger. His eyes widen and he turns to get their cups.

Moments later, they have their drinks in hand. Ruby jerks her thumb in the direction of the double doors and says, “Let’s get some air.” 

Otis frowns at her curiously at first, and it takes her a moment to realize that he probably hasn’t even noticed the cashier’s unsettling behavior at all. So she shoots him a small smile and eventually, he nods in agreement. “All right, then.” 

They head away from the darkness, toward the streetlit outdoors. This time, Ruby makes a point of making it to the doors first, because damn if she’s going to be beaten to it a second time, pushing them open and heading back out to the cool night air. A bit too cold; a small chill runs through her body as they stand there for a moment. There are no benches to sit on, so they return to the parking lot and sit on the curb in front of Otis’s bike. He stretches his legs out while Ruby keeps hers close to her chest.

The drink does wonders for her rapidly parched throat, as she sips from the plastic straw like it’s a lifeline. Saving the turtles is pretty low on her list of priorities right now. 

Neither of them says anything. Silence has been a recurring companion tonight, but for once, Ruby doesn’t have a problem with it. She’s always tried to fill the silence, with snarky remarks or jokes to hide the sincerity of little secrets she’s let slip before, like poorly plucked eyebrows as an excuse for sadness. She’s bad at lying to Otis. Like, really bad. But he acts like he gets why she does it, as is his trademark.

She feels his eyes on her as she drinks her soda, but the moonlit night hides her subtle flush. She gets the feeling that he’s trying to figure her out. She wishes him good luck because nobody’s been capable of that to this day, not even Ruby herself.

… God, that sounded way too emo. 

She goes to take another sip of her Coke and is met with the sound of the unpleasant sound of not enough drink in her straw. Groaning softly, she places the cup down between her legs and crushes it between her feet. She wraps her arms around herself because it feels like it’s suddenly gotten colder than it has all night.

“You cold?” Otis’s voice breaks the silence, and her head jolts to the side to look at him. He’s also put his drink down, looking quite toasty in his hoodie. He shifts so that his gangly arms are wrapped around his gangly legs and he looks so out of touch in his own body in the cutest kind of way. 

Why. The fuck. Is that. Cute.

“No.” She doesn’t want his hoodie. If he gives it to her, he’ll never get it back, and she doesn’t want to keep something from someone with such a delicate position in her life right now. Someone she still believes isn’t deserving of her destructive personality… But her slightly shivering body wins out over her more rational mind. 

“Okay, yes, I’m cold,” Ruby reluctantly admits. Otis’s furrowed brow settles and he shrugs off his hoodie, holding it out to her in a crumpled pile. She takes it and quickly untangles it, shoving her hands through the sleeves and instantly feeling enveloped in his essence. Her formerly bare arms settle in the fleece and she warms up surprisingly quickly. 

When she glances up at Otis shyly, she sees him looking at her with a rather curious expression. She can’t quite read it, and that fact bothers her a great deal. But it’s not her business, now, is it. So instead, she glances away and then decides to stand up, dusting her pants off. “I think I’m ready to go.”

Otis bounces to his feet in the corner of her vision. “Sounds like a plan.” He jumps onto the bike and she follows suit, and it’s starting to feel like a routine. They ride away, and when they start to exit the land of the streetlights, a sudden fear shoots through Ruby. 

“We can’t see anything,” she mumbles into his ear as they coast down the street. “Maybe we should walk.” 

She can’t see his expression, but he says, “It’s fine.” Then he flicks something near the handlebars and suddenly, the road in front of them is flooded in light. 

Ruby isn’t impressed, and the woods are closing in on them. “I still do not feel anywhere near safe, Otis.”

“Trust me,” he insists. His statement feels like it’s worth more than it sounds at face value.

She opens her mouth to speak, then decides against it. Instead, she rests her chin on his shoulder to feel more secure in the striking darkness that has enveloped them now that they’re on the road. She focuses on the small strip of light that Otis’s torch creates, illuminating the ground they cover, offering proof that they’re moving and not stuck in purgatory.

Ruby takes some time to think while they silently ride, the primary subject of her thoughts being the boy she’s leaning against. They take shape in words of gratitude she could express when he drops her off at her house, or small confessions that she would never say out loud because they would make his head inflate to the size of the fucking moon, obviously. 

(Or because they’re far too sweet and sentimental for a prickly girl like Ruby.)

Eventually, via the light of Otis’s torch, Ruby sees her mailbox – it’s painted a pastel pink with her house’s number on it – taps him on his other shoulder and whispers into his ear, “This is me.” Dutifully, he pulls off the road and into her driveway, this time actually going down it a bit to avoid getting run over.

His bike screeches to a halt, and, not wanting to feel alone in the dark, Ruby stays close to him as she dismounts. She can barely see the outline of him in the dark. 

They say nothing, simply standing there and observing each other’s silhouettes. She remembers that she’s still wearing his hoodie, but if she doesn’t say anything about it he won’t remember, right? So she wraps her long-sleeved arms around herself and looks down at her feet. There’s a tense but also calm silence between them, and that makes no sense, but Ruby doesn’t know of another way to describe it. What can she say to break it? _Thank you_ or _You’re a great guy_ or _I really like y–_

“You should go on inside,” Otis says quietly, and she can feel his hot breath on her face. Shit. Are they really that close? All the same, Ruby craves this closeness. She wants to be in this little bubble with Otis forever, just him, kind and thoughtful, and her, snarky and noncommunicative. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, and all she can hear is their quiet breathing, insignificant to the silent beyond. If she listened a bit harder she would probably hear her own heartbeat. Maybe even Otis’s too. “I just think…”

“What do you think?” 

“You know, maybe I would tell you if you didn’t interrupt me in the middle of my sentence,” Ruby snaps, and then instantly regrets the outburst. “I didn’t mean it like that–”

“I know, Ruby,” he whispers, and she feels his hand on her arm. Not to be dramatic or anything, but she wants to listen to him say her name for the rest of her life. Also, it feels like his touch is burning through the hoodie that isn’t hers. “You were saying…”

Ruby breaks out of her daze. “Right. I just think. You’re a great guy, and everything you’ve done tonight with me, it means a lot.” 

Otis breathes a tiny laugh. “It’s nothing,” he says noncommittally.

“It’s _everything,_ ” Ruby argues. “Why do you even bother with me?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and she fears that she’s asked too much. She hears and feels him breathe heavily against her. “Because,” he starts. “Because you have character.”

“Um… thanks,” Ruby mumbles, because nobody’s ever told her that before. In fact, throughout her entire life she’s tried to suppress her character, the traits that make her unique, because everyone has this image of the perfect girl in their head and she wanted, wants, to be that girl in order to deserve validation, and really, it did the complete opposite. She feels like an imposter in her own body.

“You don’t sound like you believe me,” Otis says, sounding a bit confused. Bless his heart.

She chuckles a little bit. “Because, um, I don’t.”

“Why not?” He asks. She feels his hand reaching for hers, capturing it in his warm, gentle grip. She lets his fingers curl around her own. Her cold hands ache for his warmth, so she accepts it. And her hopes are slowly climbing, climbing. Until they’ll probably grow to a peak and then be crushed when he tells her the truth, that he doesn’t feel the same. And to think, just a few months ago Ruby never would have imagined Otis Milburn to be the one to make her feel this way.

“We’ve been over this already, Otis. I’m shallow.”

“That’s what other people say about you,” he says, sounding slightly irritated. “What do _you_ say about you?”

Her mind draws a complete fucking blank. Ruby takes a moment to breathe, before quietly admitting, “I don’t know.” And she feels completely vulnerable to him right now. Maybe she should take advantage of the darkness and whisk herself away so that her presence becomes nothing more than a whisper on his skin and he’s alone in the cold. She’s still wearing his stupid hoodie.

She reaches with her free hand to his face, or what she hopes is the general location of his face. When her palm lands on soft skin, she knows she’s hit her mark.

“Ruby,” she hears him whisper.

“Shh.” She stands up on her tiptoes and Otis’s breath becomes hotter, closer to her face. She inches toward him, following her hand until her lips brush against what she thinks is his jaw. She kisses it tenderly, but chastely, and it sounds like he stops breathing altogether. She brings her lips upward, onto the soft flesh of his cheek, and she kisses him again. She has no idea what she’s doing. This isn’t a precursor to sex. They’re on the driveway outside of her house and he is definitely not coming inside. The best term she can come up with for what’s going on right now is _exploring._

She feels Otis’s other hand caress her cheek and she stops moving her lips against his skin. His fingers run across her skin and it tingles when he finds her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. This is… hot. But he doesn’t surge forward and start aggressively making out with her, as another boy might. Instead, he brings his lips to hers gently, pushing her head back a little bit, and she leans into it.

Between her legs, she starts to feel a slight throbbing, pulsing–

Now’s a good stopping point. Ruby breaks away from their kiss, sucking in a long breath. Otis’s hand is still in hers, but his other one falls from her face. “What’s wrong?” He asks, a little breathless himself.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ruby quickly replies. She wants him to know that. “I’m just… not ready for all of… this, right now.” She’s real articulate tonight, isn’t she? 

“Okay,” he says. “I should get going anyway.” He finally lets go of her hand and the change in the temperature of the air surrounding her is instant as he steps away. 

“Good luck on the roads,” she says as loud as she can without her hoarse voice breaking.

“See you Monday,” he calls as his voice moves further away from her.

Ruby listens for his footfalls on the gravel of her driveway, and eventually, they give way to the steady crunch of bike tires. The silence is back, but it’s not lonely. No, her inner voice is screaming a thousand things at her, good and bad. It’s a confusing jumble of messages, from within her own head no less. 

All she can do is organize her thoughts into a list of facts: One, she just kissed Otis Milburn. Two, it wasn’t just a means to an end; it _was_ an end. Three, he feels the same way, if the last two minutes were anything to go on. Four, she just _kissed Otis Milburn_.

Ruby doesn’t think too hard on what this means for the future because all it does is make her head hurt so she takes an Advil when she gets inside. When she’s laid out on her bed, still wearing most of her clothes (including the hoodie that isn’t hers), she recalls the feeling of punching the bag with Otis watching proudly from beside her, then their tense kiss that became more relaxed as it deepened, both things playing on a loop in her mind until finally, she sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading this! that said, thank you all for sticking with this series. i've gotten more positive feedback than i could have possibly ever hoped for. i don't know if i'm going to write another part to this, but if i do it'll probably be an epilogue of sorts. i love you guys. leave kudos and comment to let me know what you thought of this.


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